


Irony

by nemusteel



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fainting, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Multi, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, References to Depression, Teen Pregnancy, They're dead tho, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Trans Male Character, Trans Tim Drake, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, brief mentions of cancer, graphic birth, we die like mne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemusteel/pseuds/nemusteel
Summary: It's been one month since Tim's boyfriends died. After a series of events, he finds himself pregnant with either Kon or Bart's child. Fun.Based on a prompt from Owls_Teddies_Confetti_Oh_My.
Relationships: Bart Allen & Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen/Tim Drake, Bart Allen/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 59
Kudos: 214





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever. I plan on updating it every Friday. We'll see how this goes. This was supposed to have Cassie too, but then I realized I have no idea how to write as her. Maybe she'll show up later. 
> 
> For story sake, Kon and Bart die 1 month apart from each other. Tim's parents are both dead already and he's freshly adopted by Bruce. He's also 16, has been on T for 2 years, and lives in the manor. Jason is around and not crazy anymore because heck yeah Jason. He's still not on great terms with Bruce, but on ok terms with Dick and Tim.  
> Screw canon.
> 
> Feedback/words of encouragement is appreciated.

Tim moans, feeling his boyfriends’ slick bodies on his. Bart pleasuring his top half while Kon works on the bottom. There are perks to dating metas. Kon uses his TTK to create a more pulsating sensation, while Bart is just a human vibrator.

“Please, just fuck me already,” Tim pleas as Kon teases him more.

“Almost there,” Kon circes his cock around Tim’s hole. Bart slowly works his way down Tim’s neck, gently caressing it with his lips. Bart hits his sweet spot right when Kon thrusts.

“Ahhhh!-”

Tim is jolted awake by his alarm. Great, that memory again. Light peaks through his heavy curtains into one of the many rooms in the manor. No, not just one of the rooms, his room. He’s a part of this family too. Tim rolls over to look at his night stand, Kon’s glasses and Bart ring sitting on top. It’s been over a month since Kon died, and two weeks since Bart died. He pulls his covers up farther. What he would do to get a hug from either of them. Everything feels colder than when his boyfriends were alive. His days have become a monotonous routine of school, homework, patrol. Everyday it’s just wash, rinse, repeat. Trying to get the motivation to do anything nowadays has been nearly impossible.

He can’t even talk to Ives about any of this since, y’know, secret identity and all that. He’s going through his own tough times right now anyway. Cancer is no joke. He hasn’t been to school in a while since his treatment has gotten more intense. Tim thought he should be there for his friend through his battle, how it is selfish of him to not. Your boyfriends died, so what? You deal with death everyday. You should be used to it. Ives is 16 and has never been so close to death before. He’s a normal teen. No, you can’t keep thinking like that. Tim takes a deep breath. You are worth… something. You deserve… time? Time will pass no matter what you deserve. Ugh, this is stupid. I sound like a self help book. Saying it isn’t going to make me believe it anymore than I already do.

After ten minutes of mulling through his thoughts, Tim pushes himself out of bed with a sigh and starts getting ready.

He knows he still has to attend school, as much as he’d like to just drop it. He also can’t afford to call in sick anymore, he’s missed too many classes due to multiple crises across the multiverse. Too bad he can’t put that on his absence file. ‘Sorry, had to miss school to prevent the universe from imploding.’ His grades already sucked as it is. Constantly falling asleep in class probably wasn't the best study tactic. They all ranged from low B’s to high C’s. This completely differed from his grades before high school, being the perfect, straight A student he was. His parents would have sent him to another boarding school if they were alive. What shame he’d bring to the Drake name. Tim laughs emptily at that thought. Like he hadn’t already when he came out to his dad. Whatever, they’re not here.

He just wants to graduate so he never has to think of school again. He could just get his GED, but staying in school is better for his cover. It’s more suspicious to be a recluse who happens to be the adopted son of Bruce Wayne.

As Tim gets ready, he notices a headache slowly coming on. He’d think it was from lack of sleep, but he’s actually been sleeping a lot. Well, a lot for him. 6 hours a night for a week straight has to be a record for him. He pops a few Advils while looking for wherever he threw his bag yesterday. Tim grabs his backpack off the floor, and stuffs an energy drink from his latest secret stash in it. Alfred always seems to find them after the first 3 days.

Taking a deep breath, Tim trains his face to a more neutral, less tired expression. Bruce knew he was hurting, but not to what extent. Lying to Batman is hard enough without the depression, but he doesn’t want to get benched. Robin is the only thing keeping his mind off of everything right now. He can’t lose that too. Bracing himself for the day, Tim heads downstairs.

***

Entering the dining room, he sees Bruce already situated at the table reading the _Gotham Gazette_ , fully dressed in his “Brucie” attire.

“Good morning, Master Tim,”

“Morning, Alfred. Any updates on the Killer Moth case, B?” Bruce sighs as he lowers his paper.

“Unfortunately, no. He seems to have disappeared after the last attack.”

”He’ll have to come out eventually to feed again.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Alfred clears his throat, “Sirs, no speak of work at the table, please.”

“Sorry, Alfred,” the two vigilantes say in unison.

Breakfast was fairly typical. Alfred had made French toast with scrambled eggs and ham. He also brought out a bowl of plump grapes. Tim sat there pushing his eggs around his plate while he felt Alfred’s judging eyes watching him from his seat. He’s watchful eyes would have made him ate if he didn’t feel so numb. He knew he should probably eat more, but his appetite has been non-existent for the last month. His headache isn’t helping either. The Advil should kick in soon. He’ll just eat a granola bar at school between periods.

Finishing his grapes to show Alfred he at least ate _something_ , Tim thanks Alfred for breakfast and heads for his bathroom to wash up before heading out.

***

School was pretty uneventful. He nodded off a few times in English, and decided to skip lunch after his headache came back with a vengeance, making him slightly queasy. He thought he had some extra pills in his bag, but he must have forgotten to refill his supply. That’s gonna be annoying. Oh well, it’s not like he’s been concentrating in class lately.

He missed Ives. School was so boring without him. They used to commiserate over Mr. Elm’s tangents in history or how Betty McGuire chewed gum so loud, the entire class could hear it, except for their half deaf math teacher. Or they’d talk about the new subclasses coming out for _Wizards and Warriors_. That’d at least make his day go by faster.

Tim feels relief wash over him as the school bell rings. He meets Alfred in the pickup line outside. The drive was silent as Tim fell asleep the moment they pulled out of the parking lot.

School nights are “Supervillians only”. Unless a class A villain is out, no Robin. That doesn’t stop Tim from staying in the cave, researching leads on ongoing cases while Bruce patrols.

Sitting in front of the batcomputer for the last 4 hours hasn’t helped his head at all. He took another Advil when he got home, that should have worked. Is he getting his period soon? He’s been on hormones for the last two years, but he still gets it every once in a while. The unpredictability is annoying since he can never track it, but it beats having it every month. With a sigh, Tim opens the Harley Quinn file to update with his report from last week.

***

Finally, the weekend comes. Batman is monitoring a drug shipment at Gotham Harbor, while Tim is patrolling Midtown. The night is warm with high humidity, making the usual Gotham stink even stronger. He can usually handle it, but the recent weather has seemed to amplify it. As he swings from building to building, he hears his comm beep, indicating he’s been added to a private line.

“Hey Robin, how’re you holding up?”

“I’m keeping it together as well as I can,” He hears Dick sigh on the other end.

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,”

“I’m pretty sure you know how I’m feeling right now. My two best friends are dead,” ‘I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.’ Tim shakes that thought from his head. He hears as Dick shoots his grappling hook.

“I really wish you took a break. Give yourself some time to mourn.”

“Nightwing, all I’ve been doing is mourning. B still won’t let me go out on school nights, so I’ve been stuck at home,” He comes across a dark alley where two large men in all black, one maybe two inches shorter than the other, seem to be mugging a young man. He’s blond in plain clothes, probably in his early-mid 20s.

“You and I both know that you’ve been in the cave every waking moment possible,”

“Hey, I’ve been doing other things,”

“School doesn’t count,”

“Fine, I haven’t done much, can you blame me though?” He swings down, throws a batarang to disarm the taller mugger.

“No, but I think you need to do something. I know you haven’t really talked to anyone about it since I haven’t been around and B is no help. Look, I’m really sorry for not being around when I should have. I know you needed me and I screwed up,” Tim kicks the other in the face on the way down, dazing him.

“What are you talking about? You were busy with all the post-crisis clean up. I didn’t expect you to have time for me to cry on your shoulder,” He dodges a swing from the second thug, then tries to trip him with his staff, though missing when the guy he kicked grabs his leg.

“I still should have been there. Even a video call would have been better than nothing. I want to make it up to you. How about a brother bonding weekend? I’ll come pick you up from school, then we can do and eat anything you want, then we can patrol together,” Robin quickly twists out of the hold, hitting them square in the head, one after the other. The blond man thanks him profusely as Tim ties up the burly men.

Spending time with Dick would be nice, even if the circumstances weren’t the best. He hasn’t been able to really hang out with him in a few months.

“Fine, but I expect rocky road. And no more beating yourself up. It’s not your fault,” Dick knew he meant more than just not being there for him.

“Deal. See you then,” He hears Dick’s comm clicks off.

As he makes sure they’re not going anywhere, he hears police sirens steadily growing closer. A wave of fatigue washes over Tim. Hm, he’s more winded than usual. Maybe he should call it a night, he does still have that paper to write. Before the cops pull in, Robin fires his grappling hook, and swings away, thinking what to do with Dick the coming weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know said I was gonna post this on Friday, but already finished it, so-

The next week went by in no time. The only things of note were the on and off headaches he’s had and him landing in a dumpster on Saturday, throwing his leg out. There was a weird grinding in his left hip joint, like it wasn’t properly aligned with its socket. Man did he feel like an old man.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s done something like this though. He once dislocated his ankle from a bad trip, and popped it back in after kicking one of the Joker's thugs. It took over a month for it to stop clicking. Occupational hazard I guess.

He tried massaging the area Monday night, but it just exasperated it more. Every once in a while when he turns it in the wrong position, he feels a small, shooting pain as if he pinched a nerve. For once he was glad to be in school. Patrolling on that might not be the best idea. Hopefully it will get better before his big weekend with Dick.

It was always nice to just shoot the breeze with his older brother while they swing from rooftop to rooftop in the bleak Gotham night. Something about the rushing wind in your face while spilling all his random thoughts out to Dick made him feel so free.

For the first time in a long time, Tim felt a spark of excitement in his chest. Well, more like a small flicker, but it’s still something. He started using it as a tactic to keep his depression at bay, although it didn’t always work.

After making plans, they realized he had a four day weekend due to Monday being a teacher workday. By Tuesday Tim’s come up with a list of movies he wants to watch, Wednesday was the meal plan, and Thursday was the snack list. Gummy bears are a must.

As soon as class let out on Friday, Tim heads to the crowded parking lot. Scanning the assortment of parked cars, his eyes stop on an orange sports car. Bingo. He crosses the parking lot with the swarm of high schoolers. Seeing his brother’s beaming face, he opens the passenger door with a small smile.

“Hey Timmy! How was school?”

“Boring as always,” The Robin takes his red backpack off his shoulder and throws it in the backseat.

“I know what you mean. I don’t miss it at all. Ok! Grocery store first?” Dick starts up the engine, giving it a healthy rev.

“Yep. Didn’t want Alfred to find all the junk food on my list.”

“Alfie’s gonna know. It’s almost like he can smell it on you. I swear he’s a meta.” Tim shakes his head.

“Sorry, I’ve tested his blood before. Not a drop of meta in him.”

“Maybe black magic then?”

“Possibly. We don’t exactly know what he did while he worked for the Royal Family.”

They continue theorizing about Alfred’s enigmatic abilities all the way to the supermarket.

***

“Ok, snacks first, then frozens.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Dick grabs a cart while Tim pulls up his shopping list.

Starting in the candy aisle, Tim grabs two bags of Haribo gummy bears and a pack of cherry punch straws. Before they move to the drink aisle, a blue package with black squares speckled in crystals catches Tim’s eye. Salted black licorice. He’s never been one to eat licorice, but his mouth salivated the moment he laid eyes on it. He throws a bag in the cart before moving on.

“Ew, seriously Timmy?” Dick wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Hey, it’s a perfectly respectable snack in the Nordics.”

“So is pickled herring. Doesn’t make me want to eat it any more.” Tim shrugs.

“It looked good.”

“Just keep it away from my punch straws.” Tim rolls his eyes playfully.

In the drink section, they pick up a liter of the drink of intellectuals, Dr. Pepper, then move on to restock Dick’s cereal supply.

“So I get flack for getting licorice, but you, a fully grown man, can buy 3 boxes of Lucky Charms?”

“Hey, they’ve been infused with Celtic magic. It’s in the slogan.”

“Sure, if sugar counts as magic.” Dick gasps dramatically.

“The magic is the child-like wonder the marshmallows bring you!”

‘Did you know they’re called “Marbits” by General Mills? It’s a contraction of “marshmallows” and “bits” because they're small!’

Tim feels sorrow punch him in the gut. Oh yeah, Bart told us about that when we were on a mission in Minnesota. I wonder what else he knew about cereal that he never got to tell us. Bart was always a constant fountain of useless knowledge.

“Everything ok?” Dick asks, worry covering his face.

Tim tries to temper his face, not wanting to worry his brother. He can do all the crying he wants when they’re in the privacy of Dick’s apartment.

“Yeah just, uh, got lost in thought. You know how it is. Ice cream?”

Dick doesn’t look convinced, but let’s it slide.

“Sounds good.”

***

The Robins are chilling in the living room after putting their groceries away, Jeopardy! playing in the background.

“Come on, what is Monty Python! I swear, these people have no culture.” Dick laments. This continues for the rest of the game between random conversations. Tim chimes in every once in a while to answer some questions, though not as passionately as the former Robin.

As soon as the game ends, Dick turns the volume down until it’s just barely audible, but there to fill the silence. Dick’s face suddenly turns serious, but still soft.

“Alright Timmy, I know this is the part you were least looking forward to, but do you want to talk about it?”

Tim sighs, curling into himself.

“I don’t know. Part of me wants to act like nothing happened, but another part of me is screaming to just cry until I finally wake up from this nightmare.” He says in a small voice.

Dick nods, understanding his dilemma.

“I don’t want to force you to talk it out, but I know you know how self-destructive people can get when they run away from their pain.”

Tim automatically thinks of how Bruce was after Jason’s death. The whole reason he became Robin was to help Bruce through his grief. Batman needs a Robin.

“Yeah...”

“Just know that as soon as you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Tim feels his breath hitch. A mixture of anxiety and grief crawls through his chest.

“Thanks.” It comes out more strained than intended.

Dick leans over to give him a hug. “Anytime, kiddo.”

He feels warmth spread through his body, lightening the dread threatening to overcome his person. He takes it all in, savoring every moment like it would be the last time Dick ever holds him.

It could be.

That thought hits him like a bullet train. Tim begins to shake, pain finally taking over. Tears pour out of his eyes uncontrollably while his breathing speeds up.

“Oh, buddy, I got you.” Dick stroked his brother’s hair soothingly.

His dad. Steph. Kon. Bart. All of them were taken from him prematurely. Tim chokes, coughing harshly as air gets caught in his throat.

Who would be next? Dick? Bruce? Alfred? Babs? What if he can’t save them? He couldn’t save the others. _He didn’t even get to say goodbye._

His neck heats up and leaves a prickling sensation.

They sit like that for the next hour with the distant sounds of sirens and Alex Trebek in the background until Tim quiets down to wet sniffles.

“I’m sorry.” Tim says, voice hoarse and muffled by Dick’s sweater.

Dick pulls Tim out from his chest so he can look at him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. We all need a good cry sometimes. You’ve been through a lot this year. I can’t even imagine how you’re still functioning.”

“You really are the strongest person I know, Timmy. No meta power in the universe, hell, the multiverse can compare to that.” Tim sniffs.

“I’m not the one who always has the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

Dick smiles, “Agree to disagree.”

Tim scrubs his face with the sleeves of his red hoodie. He hates crying. He always feels so gross after.

“I think I’m done. The tear tank has been completely emptied.”

“Ok. Let’s get you some water. Crying can really dehydrate you.” Dick gets up, stretching as he heads to the kitchen.

“Could you grab my licorice too?”

The former Robin gags dramatically. Tim looks at his brother with the best puppy eyes he can muster. “Please?”

Dick sighs, “Fine, just this once. You’re lucky you’re cute.” He adds playfully. The younger boy feels the smallest smile spread across his face.

When the acrobat comes back with the refreshments, Tim is loading Netflix on the TV.

“Avatar?” Dick asks as he sets the snack on the coffee table.

“I figured we could use some Ember Island Players.”

“When do we not?” Tim scoots into his brother as the opening starts, Dick wrapping his arm around him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. my favorite Timmy thing, nose plugs.

The next day the brothers spent the entire day at the older’s apartment, playing _Mario Kart_ and watching _Avatar_. They only left the couch for bathroom breaks or food. Huntress and Batwoman covered their patrols the last two nights, knowing Tim needed the break. He was still emotionally and mentally drained from the day before, so he relished the downtime.

They’re definitely patrolling together his last night at Dick’s though. He’s been looking forward to it all week. Even after waking up Sunday morning feeling like crap, he was determined to go out.

Tim stretches, trying to loosen his leg up while Dick changes. A minor pain shoots down his leg. There is no way he’s telling his brother about that. He’d definitely call patrol off again. Besides, it’s been fine the last few days. Lifting himself off the bed, he stands up and bends his knees to test his legs out. All good.

He’s tying his shoes when Dick comes out of the bathroom dressed in teal training shorts and a bright green tank top.

“I don’t think you’re bright enough.” He comments sarcastically.

“Hey, you’re just jealous I’m pulling this off.” Tim rolls his eyes, smiling.

“I think the only thing jealous of that outfit is a traffic light. You do seem to be fond of that aesthetic.”

“Hey, I didn’t design the Flying Grayson’s costumes!” The older brother yells in defense.

“But you did design the Robin costume.” Tim added.

“It was an homage!” Dick retorted defensively.

“And doomed all future Robins to look like Christmas elves with capes.” Dick scoffs.

“More like blessed.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway, you changed out of your binder, right mister?” He asks, knowing Tim’s forgotten on multiple occasions.

“Yes, _mom._ ”

“Hey, you can’t be too careful. Everyone has memory lapses sometimes. Even you, Mr. 142.” He retorts while they head downstairs. As soon as they make it to the side walk, Dick pushes his brother as he begins sprinting.

“Hey!-”

“Last one to the park pays for lunch!” Dick laughs childishly, reminiscent of his days as Robin. Tim stumbles, leg grinding in its joint uncomfortably. It takes him a millisecond longer than usual to regain his balance, but chases after Dick, seeing he already had a considerable head start.

***

After their run, the two grab lunch at _Dunbar's Drive-in_ , then head back to the apartment to shower and chill before they head out for patrol. As Tim hops in the shower, he sighs in relief. The rush of hot water felt amazing on his body.

Running full force on his bad leg probably wasn’t the best idea. He recognized a deep ache beginning to develop along with the twinges of pain. It was barely noticeable, but definitely there. On top of that, his pesky headache decided to come back while they were at Dunbar’s. The steam was very welcoming, alleviating some of the pain temporarily.

He realizes he’s been in there for ten minutes already. It’s easy to lose track of time while lost in thought. Tim quickly finishes his business. After drying off, he throws on some sweatpants, a new sports bra, and one of Dick’s old t-shirts. Feeling his leg remind him of his broken body, Tim shrugs it off. He'll just ice it when he gets back tonight and take something before he leaves. This is his last patrol of the week anyway.

He almost runs into Dick as he opens the door, his brother just about to knock.

“Ack!-”

“Woah! Sorry Tim, I was just about to get you. Oracle just called. Croc’s been spotted in our area. Time to suit up.”

***

Of course Killer Croc had to come out tonight. Tim has a theory that Croc waits until the weekend just to make him trek through the sewers. Even with his nose plugs, the stench was getting to him. The combination of the smell, his aforementioned headache that wouldn’t go away, and his inability to breath through his nose was starting to make him woozy. Luckily, walking behind Nightwing wasn’t unusual as his brother typically ran point. He could lag behind slightly without it being suspicious. Plus, the minimal light concealed the lack of color in his face. He knew he must be getting pale with how he was feeling.

“Come in, Nightwing?” Dick clicks his comm to respond.

“What’s up, O?”

“I found Croc via cameras from the KCG radio station. He’s heading in your direction, but street level.”

“Great, we can finally leave this shithole.” Dick smirks at his own joke. Tim would usually appreciate the bad pun, but he was just not feeling up to it. Oracle decides to ignore the joke.

“Keep your comms on.”

“Sure thing.” Robin chimes in.

The duo found a ladder leading up about 8 yards down. As soon as they climb out, into an alleyway, Tim takes out his nose plugs. He takes a deep breath, feeling the oxygen flow through his lungs. Much better. The brothers take out their grappling hooks and point them at the roof of an apartment building next to the alley like they have thousands of times in the past.

They leap from building to building, keeping their eyes peeled for a giant reptilian man. The cold Gotham air on Tim’s face settled his head and stomach slightly. Yeah, he could make it through the night as long as they didn’t have to head back to the sewers.

Or not.

Tim miscalculates his shot, launching him straight into a gargoyle atop the roof he was aiming for. His breath hitches as he gains speed to his demise. Twisting his body, he narrowly misses face planting into the mythological beast. Due to his position, the boy wonder is forced to land on the roof with his non-dominant leg. Good news, he stuck the landing. Bad news, that’s his messed up leg.

Robin lets out a strangled gasp as pain shoots through his body, starting from his left hip, then rushing down to his knee and up to his head. This was very different from before and so, so much worse. Every little movement felt like someone was trying to tear his leg off, and that wasn’t even the worst part. Oh no, he wished that was it. The pain seemed to spread to his pelvis. It was like he was being kicked in the crotch repeatedly with metal cleats.

He winces. Everything slows down for Tim. His hearing turns muffled and static-filled. He knows he’s falling backwards, yet he can’t seem to focus on that. He should try to catch himself, not knowing how much roof he has behind him before he falls off the 6 story building, but he can’t seem to control his body. The shock from the pain leaves his head pounding and his stomach churning. He vaguely feels someone catch him, muffled shouts filling the air. Not that he can make them out though. He guesses it’s Dick? Shit.

Tim rolls over in his brother’s arms, dry heaving. His body screams as he moves, but he keeps going. The taste of stomach acid fills his mouth. Great. The teen throws up his lunch. Coughing wetly, his hearing wavers.

“Ju- it out. B’s -ay.” Tim vomits again instead of responding.

Panting, he starts seeing dark spots creep into his vision, head spinning. He heaves again, but finds he has nothing left for his stomach to dispel. He gags several more times, every instance making his vision cloud more and hearing distort again. The last thing he sees is the familiar dark figure of Batman approaching him.

Cool, dad’s here.

That's the last thing he thought before he feels himself slip into the greeting darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Finals has been keeping me busy. Enjoy!

“Robin!” Dick shouts as he hears his brother’s cry. He immediately springs into action, watching in horror as Tim falls backwards. Nightwing sprints to catch his partner. Grabbing the younger boy's arm, he makes it just in time to prevent him from plummeting to his death. He cradles him as Tim's knees buckle.

Now that he’s closer, he notices how pale he is. His face was creased with pain as his breathing grew heavier.

“Robin’s down! I need backup now!” Dick shouts tensely.

“Tim, can you hear me?” No response.

“Did he get hit?” Oracle asks as she finds the closest ally.

Nightwing checks over the pain stricken boy quickly, yet finds nothing to his surprise.

“I don’t see any blood.” Just as he’s about to unzip Robin’s suit, the boy hastily rolls over, making a noise akin to a scream mixed with a dry heave. He empties the contents of his stomach onto the grimy concrete roof.

“Batman is en route. ETA five minutes.”

He uses the arm cradling his brother to hold back the younger’s hair while taking the glove off of his other hand with his teeth. He checks Tim’s temperature with the back of his hand, only to find it normal.

Tim heaves again, more partially digested sandwich bits come up.

“Just let it out. B’s on his way.” They sit like that for a few more minutes until Tim starts to quiet down, panting with the occasional gag. He sees Bruce quietly land next to them out of the corner of his eye.

“Nightwing, status.” Batman commands.

“We were heading towards Elm when Robin just fell. I caught him before anything could happen, but he’s in a ton of pain. He’s been throwing up for the last 5 minutes, but he doesn’t have a fever. I didn’t see any blood either. Haven’t checked for bruising yet. Fuck.” Dick swears as he feels his brother’s body turn limp, face still full of pain.

“We need to get him back to the cave. The batmobile should be right below us.” Bruce says as he scoops his youngest’s limp body into his arms.

***

The drive to the cave was tense. Dick held his brother, seeing him flinch from every time the car jostled him.

Alfred was waiting with a gurney ready. As soon as they get him on the bed, they begin their work. Bruce cuts Tim out of his suit while the butler works to sedate the boy. Dick hooks up the heart monitor. After a few minutes Tim’s breathing evens out and his face relaxes. His heart rate slows down as his body calms.

Once they are assured he’s stable, Bruce checks over him gently, starting from his lower half. The older man begins to draw blood.

No visible injuries. Poison gas? But Dick wasn’t affected. Bruce pauses, scowling when he notices something different about the boy’s physique.

“Get him situated in the med bay.” Without another word, Bruce grabs the vial of blood and retreats to his lab.

***

Tim is stable. For now. He’s been out for the last 5 hours, Dick not leaving his side once. Oracle had gotten in touch with Leslie, but they had several emergencies at her clinic. She promised she’d come by as soon as she could, but to call her if anything else happened. Alfred left an hour ago, most likely to make snacks to keep their energy up. Bruce was still running tests. He came out for a bit to ask Dick what they had done over the weekend to rule things out before retreating back to the lab. Dick gave him a list of where they went and what they ate with approximate times. Hopefully that gives them some answers.

Sitting next to his brother’s bed, Dick ran everything they did this weekend through his head, trying to find some sort of clue as to what had just happened. Did he push him too hard during their race? He doesn’t remember him falling or hitting anything then. Was it food poisoning? Was he ill before patrol? How could he not have noticed?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the heart monitor beep, indicating Tim’s heart rate going up. He sees his eyes move under his closed lids.

The first thing Tim notices when he comes to is how high he was. They must have given him the good stuff. His throat felt raw.

“Timmy?” He hears Dick say in a soft voice. The events on the roof slowly come back to him. He tries to groan to indicate to his brother he was at least awake, but fails as he feels air uselessly pass through his throat, missing his vocal chords. He slowly opens his eyes. Squinting, he realizes he’s in the cave. Turning his head, he sees his brother smiling wearily at him.

“Hey buddy, how are you feeling? You really scared us there.” He asks as he brings a straw to his younger brother’s mouth. He was immediately relieved as the cool water rushed through his system. He clears his throat weakly, trying to get his voice to work.

“I’m sorry.” He said guiltily, voice still rough, but audible.

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for. We just want you to get better.” Dick gently holds his hand. Tim responds with a hum, diverting his gaze to the ceiling.

“How long was I out?” Tim asks after several minutes of quiet.

“About 5 hours.”

“Not bad.”

They stay like that for 20 minutes, enjoying each other’s company without saying a word until Bruce enters the medbay looking disheveled.

Breaking the silence, Tim cracks a tired smile

“Hey Dr. B. What’s the diagnosis?” Bruce looks at him with a straight face, exhaustion filling his eyes. To the average person, he would be impossible to read. The Robins knew something was wrong though. He was tense, almost uncomfortable.

“When was the last time you had intercourse?”

Tim’s face immediately falls, anxiety rushing through his chest like hot lava. “Uh, before Bart and Kon...” He answers stiffly, not able to finish his sentence. Dick places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Why, what’s wrong?” He asks with concern lacing his voice.

“Tim, you’re pregnant.”

Tim freezes. Eyes wide, he feels his whole body tense. He stares at Bruce in disbelief, mind racing.

“I couldn’t find anything abnormal in your labs aside from high levels of hCG. Leslie said you probably passed out from dehydration and/or stress. The nausea was most likely morning sickness.” Tim’s heart races.

“I would like to monitor you for the next few days, but we can move you up to your room.” Bruce continued.

At this point, Tim isn’t listening anymore. His hand slackens in Dick’s as he slowly pulls away.

Pregnant. At 16. With the father deceased.

The burning fear in his chest slowly creeps up the sides of his neck, settling behind his ears.

He wasn’t eating well. Wasn’t taking care of himself. He went on patrol.

“Timmy, you need to breathe.” Dick says worried.

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath. He exhales shakily, body beginning to tremble slightly. Tears fill his vision. He tries to stop shaking. The teen pulls his knees to his chest while holding his head in his hands as if to hold himself together. His breathes begin to come out in short bursts.

The burning in his chest increases as he coughs harshly, gasping for breath in between as his thoughts spiral out of control.

What if he got hit? What if he was poisoned? He can’t raise a kid! He’s still a kid himself!  
“Buddy, I need you to come back to us, ok? I know you’re scared, but you need to breathe. Just follow my lead. In, out. In, out. Come on now.” Dick instructs him, Tim trying his best to follow along, sputtering. He feels like he’s drowning in lava.

He tries to ground himself with the sound of his brother's voice. It takes another 15 minutes before he finally gains control of his breathing again, albeit still shaky.

“May we touch you?” Bruce asks gently.

The teen shakes his head, not thinking he could handle the extra stimulation as anxiety crawls through his body. Bruce nods. Knowing the weight would help, he wraps Tim’s body in the quilt that was folded neatly at the end of the bed.

He immediately feels relief. Closing his eyes, he slowly relaxes his body one area at a time. He starts with his shoulders, then works his way down.

He feels completely drained. Muscles and brain fatigued from all the stress. His brother and father sit beside him watching him quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting for this chapter. The holidays got insane and I was so wiped after the fact. Just saying, I'm not cooking for the next 6 months. I'm so over it.

When Tim woke up, he realized he wasn’t in the Batcave. They must have moved him after he fell asleep last night. Strange, he was a pretty light sleeper, especially when it comes to movement.

As soon as that thought passed, the teen shot out of bed and bolted for his bathroom. His stomach violently churned. As soon as the toilet is at arm’s length Tim drops to his knees. He feels the hot acid creeping up his esophagus. He grabs on to the porcelain bowl for dear life right in time to spill whatever he had left in his stomach from the night before.

Tim hears a knock at his door, drowned out by the echo of his heavy pants.

“Tim?”

Right as the teen is about to answer, his body heaves, spilling more burning liquid into the bowl. He coughs on the acid in his throat as he feels someone gather his hair in their hand, holding it back.

Once the wave of nausea subsides, Tim drapes his arms over the bowl while resting his forehead on the seat, not caring how many germs must reside on it. He closes his eyes, hoping it’d help his rolling stomach.

“You think your stomach is done?” His hair holder, who he now realizes is Dick, asks after a few minutes of silence.

Tim just groans as a response.

“Morning sickness sucks I guess,” His brother adds oh so helpfully.

Right. Pregnancy. This is morning sickness then. Of course he knows what it is, he’d done a ton of research when he was supporting Steph. It just didn’t click until Dick had brought it up.

Tim takes a few deep breaths before pushing himself up. He still didn’t feel 100%, but he didn’t think he was going to immediately puke if he moved.

“I’m going to have Alfred prep some ginger tea for you,” Dick says, keeping a watchful eye on his brother.

“Please drown it in as much honey as possible. I don’t want to taste that cursed root.” Tim grumbles as he grabs his toothbrush.

“I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.” The former Robin says with a light smile.

The teen just grunts back as he brushes his teeth.

Tim takes a shower to freshen up a bit more, feeling grimy from the night before. He catches himself staring in the mirror at his abdomen. He lightly runs his hand over it. His abs did feel a bit softer than normal, but there was no visible bump yet. Was that normal? He’d have to research that. With a sign, the teen gets dressed, realizing he must have been standing there for a while now as his mirror was already defogging.

***

He felt much better after his shower. The nausea was gone for now, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He had a light breakfast, then went back to his room. Bruce called the school to tell them he was sick while they sort this out. As far as the public knows, the youngest Wayne has a bad case of the flu.

Tim had an appointment with Leslie at 3, but still had several hours to kill until then. As much as they all wanted to take off and go with him, Dick and Bruce couldn’t get out of their prior commitments. One had a shift at the GCPD and the other had a day full of meetings at Wayne Inc. The teen insisted he’d be fine and practically forced them out the door that morning.

He tried to get some homework done so he wouldn’t be too behind, but his mind kept wandering until he eventually gave up and pulled out his laptop.

Based on his calculations, he should be around 9 weeks along. The teen was familiar with the adoption system for obvious reasons, but he’d never looked too much into abortion. He started with some basic options from medical articles, then dove into medical papers and research to weight out the pros and cons. He opened a new text doc and started his list.

  * Adoption:  

    * Pro:  

      * It’ll be with a family that has less of a chance of messing it up.
      * I can choose who it ends up with.
      * Can keep the last bit of Kon or Bart alive on the earth.
    * Con:  

      * It will wonder for years who its biological parents are.
      * Might try to track me down.
      * Could possibly find the bats.
      * Might be a meta.
  * Abortion:  

    * Pros:  

      * No chance to mess it up.
      * No weird meta side effects.
    * Cons:  

      * Killing an innocent. (Would B allow it?)
      * Killing the last bit of Kon or Bart on the earth.
      * Potential medical risks.
  * Keep it?:  

    * Pros:  

      * Have a part of Kon or Bart.
      * Parenthood?
    * Cons:  

      * Parenthood.



Tim gets jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of his alarm. Man, had he been working on this for 2 hours already? With a heavy sigh, he saves his file, then shuts his computer.

***

“Are you ready for the moment of truth?” Leslie asks, rolling the ultrasound towards the examination table.

Tim takes a deep breath.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,”

Leslie instructs the boy to lift his shirt and pull his pants a little lower down his hips so more of his abdomen is exposed. Doing as he’s told, fear pulls in his chest. The elder woman squirts some gel onto the ultrasound wand before placing it on the teen’s stomach. The screen shows distorted black and white lines and swirls that supposedly make up a picture.

“Everything seems to be normal,” Leslie says as she moves the wand around.

“Aaaand there’s the heartbeat,” She announces.

He lets out a shaky breath as he stares at the screen. That’s a tiny human. His tiny human. Fuck, this is too real.

“Based on what you told me, I’d place you around 9 weeks along. The child seems to be hitting all the benchmarks, but you haven’t gained as much weight as I’d like you to have,”

Fear clenches in his chest harder.

“I wasn’t really eating as well as I should have...”

“It’s to be expected based on the circumstance. For now, I want you to practice a better diet and stop drinking those blasted energy drinks. Alfred should have removed your latest stash by now,” The doctor hands Tim a napkin to wipe the gel off.

Tim sighs at the thought of the butler’s next lecture.

“Yes ma’am,”

“I’m still worried about the fall you had yesterday. I’m hoping you just overworked yourself, but we still need to take precautions,” Leslie states as she sits down.

“Now to talk about options. While in a normal pregnancy now would be the best time to terminate if you wanted to go down that route, there are significantly more risks considering we don’t yet know the nature of the child’s biology. It either has speedster or kryptonian DNA, so we don’t know how your body and the child’s body will respond to common methods. Surgery would most likely be the best option in that field. You would be in and out within a few days and should only feel symptoms for the following 10 days. If you do decide to carry them to term, I would like to see you weekly. There is very little research regarding meta pregnancies, especially in non-metas. For now as we wait for you to decide, you will have to stop taking testosterone, but may continue taking sertraline,”

Tim tries to absorb as much of the information she’s telling him as possible, but his mind keeps distracting him.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m just a call away Tim. I know this can’t be easy, but I want to make it as painless as possible,” Leslie’s eyes soften. She hands him a summary of the options and what she had just discussed, knowing he only caught part of what she said. The poor boy was under so much stress as it is.

“Thank you Leslie. For everything. Really, I don’t know what we’d do without you sometimes.” Tim cracked a weary smile.

***

The drive home was silent. Alfred watched his pseudo-grandson stare out the window, lost in thought.

“Hey Alfred, am I insane for wanting to keep it?” Tim asks.

“It is only natural to want to keep one’s flesh and blood close to you, Master Tim.” Alfred responds, eyes still on the road.

“I know, but logically it’s impractical. I’d be a 16 year old single parent who knows nothing about kids, not to mention all the bat stuff. What if I end up like my parents? It’s nature vs. nurture, but I got both sides messed up, so that just doubles my chances, right...?”

“No parent is ever ready for parenthood. Master Bruce was terrified the night he brought Master Dick home,”

“I know, but… Bruce at least knew what having loving parents at that age was like,”

The elder man turns into the driveway, but stops in front of the gate. He turns to look at the teen.

“No parent is perfect, but you will never do what your parents did to you. You are not your parents, nor will you ever be. Their actions do not define who you are. You are a strong, intelligent, loving young man who would do anything to protect his family, no matter the cost. You always think of others first and are the most compassionate person I have ever met. If you want to keep this child, I know they will be the center of your life. Although the circumstances are not ideal, I could not think of any 16 year old more qualified than you,” His voice is stern, yet full of love and honesty. Tim can’t detect a single lie or over exaggeration.

The teen doesn’t realize he’s crying until he sniffs.

“Thanks Alfie,” He says drying his eyes with his jacket sleeve.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm finally back on schedule! Hopefully I can keep it that way. 😅

Entering the manor, Tim is instantly hit with the overwhelming smell of cooking batter. With zero warning he rushes to the nearest bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He tries his best to keep his breakfast down, but another wave of nausea hits him hard, sending him over the edge.

The door opens behind him as he retches.

“What the fuck?”

Tim coughs harshly as acid burns his throat.

“Eloquent as ever, Jay,” He responds roughly.

“Aw, poor babybird is sick,” Jason teases as he fills a glass with water.

Tim just groans, leaning against the wall after spitting out some more acid.

“I wish I was just sick...” He mutters under his breath as he accepts the water from Jason.

“The hell does that mean?”

Tim sighs tiredly, turning his head limply to meet eyes with his brother.

“I’m pregnant,” The words still felt wrong on his tongue.

Shock flashes across the Red Hood’s face.

“You, Mr. Timothy ‘No hand holding, no parties on a school night, never watched SpongeBob’ Drake, got yourself knocked up?”

The ill teen glares at the taller boy.

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything, but yeah,”

Jason grins.

“Fuck Timmers, I didn’t think you of all people would have such a dramatic rebellious phase. Dick, yeah, he’s all drama. Me, I was an angry little shit, but you?”

“Shut up,” Tim grumbles.

“Hey, I’m just saying, I’m glad you finally loosened up a bit. Made us look bad and all that,” Jason shrugs nonchalantly.

“What the hell are you doing here anyway? Just came to make my life a living hell? Because jokes on you, you can’t beat the fetus growing in me,” Tim asks, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic. Before he could reply, another voice called out from outside.

“Baby?” The only Wayne sister asks, face lit up.

“Cass?” Tim replies, sitting up in surprise.

“I had to pick her up from the airport,” The older brother says, pointing to her.

“Wait, what? I didn’t know you were coming home!” The youngest says confused.

“Surprise?” Cass says meekly.

“Fuck, the waffles!” Jason yells as he runs out of the powder room.

“Waffles?” Tim stares at Cass confused.

***

Apparently Cass had come to town for the week to attend a gala. The Cassandra Wayne Fund, Cass’ personal subsection of the Martha Wayne Foundation, was raising funds for the new children’s home that will have a focus on victims of abuse. Tim had totally forgotten about the event with all that’s been going on. She figured he would, hence the surprise. But hey, Tim won in the surprise department this time.

She evidently convinced Jason to make her his famous waffles on their drive over. Though, it probably didn’t take much persuading. He always had a soft spot for their only sister.

The two youngests were cuddling in the dining room while their older brother finished up in the kitchen. Tim missed this. As much as he loved his brothers, the connection he and Cass had was just different. They were so in tune with each other, it was almost like they could read each other’s mind.

After Kon and Bart died, Cass and he would just lay on his bed together for hours, not saying a word. Her presence was pretty much the only thing that kept him grounded at the time. Having her back, even for just the week, was amazing.

“Plan?” Tim sighs heavily.

“I don’t know Cass… I feel like the most responsible thing would be to put it up for adoption, but it’s at least a quarter meta. I don’t know anyone who could raise it that wouldn’t have ties to the hero community. I don’t want them to get involved. I... I can’t in good conscious have an abortion. This is the last piece of them I have left. I don't think I could live with myself if I destroyed their flesh and blood,” Tim leans further into his sister.

“Any plan good if happy,” Cass responds reassuringly.

“Thanks,”

Jason emerges from the kitchen, three plates in hand, balanced masterfully.

“Alright, maple syrup and strawberries for Cass, all the fixings for me, and a pile of whipped cream with a hidden waffle for babybird,” Jason scrunches his face at the last order.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Tim says grabbing his plate.

“I’m good. Only a heathen eats waffles without syrup,”

Tim just shrugs as he digs into his mountain of cream.

Jason starts talking about the latest book he’s been reading, with Tim commenting here and there and Cass nodding along.

“I want to keep it,” The pregnant teen blurted out after staring at his empty plate.

The taller man choked on his water.

“Ok,” Cass says with a smile, confirming her approval.

“Are you sure? You know we could find a good home for them if you don’t want to abort,”

“I know, but… I- This is all I have left of them. This is the first thing that’s happened to me in the last year that could be seen as a positive. I’ve lost so much from things that were out of my control. I finally have a say in something. I can’t throw my chance away by giving them up.” The pregnant teen’s voice is firm. One thing all the bats had in common, no matter blood related or not, was their unwavering stubbornness. Jason knew if this is what Tim has decided, there’s no going back.

“Fine, but I get to teach the brat proper gun safety. None of that shit B taught us.”

Tim smiles at the image of the Red Hood training a child. As rough as he is, Jason has always had a soft spot for kids. It’s almost like it flips a motherly switch in him.

“Deal.”

***

That night he sat the rest of the family down to tell them his decision. Bruce immediately began forming a cover story while Dick planned all the things he’d do with his niece or nephew.

He couldn’t hide the pregnancy forever. Eventually the public would notice a new baby hanging around the Wayne’s. Since Tim was already well-known as a Drake, coming out to the public was a must if he wanted to transition. At least he’d already gotten that out of the way a few years prior. They’ll need to bite the bullet and let the scandal pass before any theories could come out. Better to get it over quickly so the public can move on to the next hot gossip and forget about everything.

They decided to hold a press conference in two weeks. They didn’t want to detract attention away from the fundraiser, so they’ll announce it the week after, then hold the conference two days after that. Tim will have to attend the gala so as to not raise suspicion. Luckily he wasn’t showing yet, so it shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

For the first time in months Tim finally felt in control of his life. He had a plan. Structure. They still had work to do, but it’s not like they hadn’t dealt with gossip before. Getting Jason back into the public eye was definitely worse than this.

They got this. Bruce said to leave it up to him. Now all Tim has to focus on is getting through this pregnancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious, each batkid has a charity fund under their name that is connected to one of the Wayne foundations. Cass’ is for kids of child abuse and Jason’s is for education in underserved communities under the Martha Wayne foundation. Tim’s is for mental health awareness, research, and treatment and Dick’s is for victims of sexual abuse, both more focused on the LGBT+ community under the Thomas Wayne foundation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had 75% of this chapter written last week, then rewrote the last scene 5 times before ending up where it is now. I'm still claiming I'm on time. It's still Friday in... Guam...
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! I'll probably edit this chapter a bit tomorrow.

Alfred called a family fitting session two days before the gala. With growing children and vigilantes destroying too many suits during undercover work, the butler had proclaimed that two days before every formal event is to be dedicated to selecting their outfits. This gave them enough time to go shopping or to tailor anything. The only expectation is if the planet was under attack.

Everyone hated it, but it was better than inflicting the wrath of pre-gala Alfred.

It’s always the same. Breakfast is at 8am sharp, with everyone expected to be in their rooms by 9am to begin dressing, and final checks in the family room by 11am. If anyone needs to go shopping, they leave right after lunch at 12:30pm.

Tim groans as he tries to button his 5th pair of slacks. He fit into his Robin suit just two weeks ago! Sure, Cass had noticed the curve forming on his stomach, but there’s no way he’d gotten to this point so fast. He really didn’t want to go out. Maybe Dick had some old slacks he could borrow. They’re probably too long, but Alfred could always hem them.

He discards the pants on the growing pile on his bed before sliding on some basketball shorts.

He heads down the hall to his oldest brother’s room, knocking to make sure he’s decent.

“Come in!”

Tim opens the door to his brother fully dressed in a sleek black tuxedo with an untied bowtie draped around his neck.

“Everything ok? You’re not dressed.” Dick’s big brother mode has activated.

Tim just groans as he faceplants onto the bed.

“Nothing fits. I spent the last hour just trying on pants.” He laments into the sheets.

“Aw, Timmy, it’s ok. Let’s see if I have anything in storage.”

After a bit of searching, Dick found a box of formal wear from middle school. He pulled out 4 garment bags neatly packed.

The teen tries them on in the connected bathroom.

“How’s it going?” Dick asks through the door.

“How were you the same height at 13 as I am now, yet your pants are still 3 inches too long?” Tim asks as he opens the door to show the fit.

“What can I say, I’ve got legs for _days_.” The acrobat grins.

“Noooo- I did not need that image in my head.”

“It’s not like my suit leaves much to the imagination.” Dick shrugs.

***

Alfred was able to alter the slacks so they didn't look like Armani JNCOs on him, and everyone else went on with the rest of their day as usual.

Now, it’s the day of the gala. Tim had been sore off and on for the last 3 days. It was mainly headaches, but every once in a while he’d feel random pains in other places.

The most bothersome thing was his chest. He found himself having to take more frequent breaks from his binder. It was more sensitive than normal and he swore the fabric was hugging him tighter than before. He already hated his chest as it was, but now he was constantly being reminded that it was there. That day he decided to just wear a sports bra and a loose shirt until he had to get ready for the fundraiser.

His morning sickness hadn’t gotten any better, but he figured out some good methods to keep it subdued. Ginger ale is amazing. It’s the only thing that’s been keeping him from puking his guts out every minute and it tastes way better than ginger tea.

Bruce tried to convince him to not come, Tim insisted. He didn’t need rumors to start circulating from his absence. He already missed two weeks of school. He needs to show his face soon before people start noticing. Right before they pull up to the Wayne Foundation build, Tim finishes downing his bottle of ginger ale. He’s taken every precaution to make sure tonight is perfect. 4 hours. He just needs to survive 4 hours. He’s got this. Taking a deep breath, the teen puts on his high society smile, preparing himself for the cameras.

***

Tim did not got this. An hour into the gala his back started hurting. It started as a twinge of pain whenever he moved the wrong way. This was so stupid. He could jump between trains blindfolded, takedown a group of world-class assassins by himself, and incapacitate 12 armed gang members without shedding a single speck of blood. But standing in a ballroom for one hour? Apparently his body wasn’t up to the task. The twinges of pain morphed into fire down his legs around the 2 hour mark.

3 hours in, he did his best to concentrate on whatever Mrs. Alden was saying about her grandson, but found himself losing the battle as his focus shifted to keeping himself upright. He was getting dizzy, probably overheating. Every time he felt himself sway slightly, he’d mask his imbalance with a movement of his hand or readjustment of his stance. He knew he needed a break from his binder soon. Tim tries to hydrate as much as possible while Mrs. Alden brought up her new granddaughter.

Each instance he steadied himself with the leg he swayed towards, a new pain ignited. He just needs to hold out for 1 more hour. He has a pretty high pain tolerance, but the lack of adrenaline might be making it harder to work through.

After excusing himself, he heads to the bathroom, trying to not get caught in another conversation. It takes him 30 minutes before he reaches the mens’ room. He did his best to not be rude, but by the time the 3rd person stopped him on his journey his stomach started churning.

He tries his best to act casual as he speed walks to the first stall. As soon as he locks the door, he sits on the closed toilet seat and quickly starts undressing.

“You good, Timbo? It’s just us in here if you need to blow chunks.” The unmistakable voice of Jason states through the stall door.

“Just needed a break.” He says as he loosens his tie.

“Which means you’re about to pass out.” He retorts bluntly.

“I’m _fine,_ Jay. I just needed a quick breather.” Tim hears the restroom door open and close quickly, then the click of a lock. He mentally thanks the second Robin for giving them privacy.

“Uh huh. I'm pretty sure you don't know the definition of physical limits. You better open the door before I climb over it myself.” Not in the mood to argue, the teen unlocks the stall door, shirt half undone, with a sigh. The 6’ figure of the second Wayne son loomed over Tim’s small frame.

“Before you say anything, I’m not helpless. I can undress myself.” He said offensively. Jay is in mom-mode already, but he will not let him touch him. He’s fine.

“Fine, fine. I just want to make sure you don’t end up getting a concussion from passing out. You look paler than Death itself. I should know.” Jason leans against the marble wall.

Tim would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn’t spinning. He finally got the last button undone. He unzips the tight bindings and feels a rush of air fill his lungs.

The sudden change shocked his body, causing him to swiftly lift the seat lid as bile crept up his throat. He falls to his knees in front of the porcelain throne he had become too familiar with. The impact of the tile sends a stabbing pain to his pelvis. The jolt leaves him seeing static.

Burning liquid spills into the toilet, but he barely notices. He can feel his consciousness slipping. Shit, he needs to focus. He can’t tell if he’s panting hard or if it just sounds that way because blood is rushing to his ears.

Tim slowly grounds himself through meditation. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but he’s able to calm himself enough for his body to refrain from shutting off. He has one arm supporting his head on the seat and his other dangling limply to his side. The teen slowly feels better as oxygen flows through his body. His body is somewhat numb from fatigue.

“How long have we been in here?” He asks wearily, not bothering to hide his exhaustion.

“Almost half an hour. I put the housekeeping sign up so no one bothered us.” He could feel Jason’s careful gaze.

Taking a deep breath, the teen wonder slowly lifts his head, blinking as his eyes readjust to the light.

“We should get back. Bruce is gonna do his final speech soon.” He was still looking at the wall, away from his brother.

“Are you sure you can make it? You’re less ghostly white, but I can’t say you look great.” He gave Tim a disapproving look.

“We can leave in 30 minutes, tops.” He replies as he pushes himself up. “I don’t want to deal with-” Tim gets cut off as he slips and his left knee slams into the tiled floor. He feels lightheaded from the sudden position change.

“Slow down, Bambi.” The older teen says warily, stepping a little closer.

He tries once more, but fails as his leg gives out again, pain radiating through his body and vision fuzzing.

“Babybird?” Jay hears his brother’s breathing pick up.

Tim doesn’t reply as he forces himself up, only to fall down when his legs refuse to support his weight. The teen leans forward on his arms, still facing the wall as he hyperventilates. He answers softly in a terrified voice, eyes closed.

“Jay, I can’t stand.”


End file.
